


granola bar?

by toastyboi



Series: JOHNDAVE WEEK 2k18 [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, and john's a neighbor, dave's a ghost, jdweek2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 15:28:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15146132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastyboi/pseuds/toastyboi
Summary: jdweek day 1 !!! i chose urban fantasy





	granola bar?

“Come  _ on _ Rose, it’s not like I’m asking you a life or death favor or anything. Just hold a camera!” 

The soggy, lilting fries on his plastic tray were looking especially dull now that John didn’t have one of his best friends backing him up on his (admittedly impulsive) half-assed ghost hunting excursion. Rose, although apathetic about disappointing John and his need for intangible thrills, manages a little squeeze to his shoulder after popping the last piece of a dry chicken nugget in her mouth. 

“It’s not that I’m entirely unwilling,” she mumbles, watching students scatter across the quad. “I just don’t have the camera skills you’re probably looking for. And a high school version of Ghost Hunters sounds bad. You know that.” 

John groans, flicking a crumb in her direction and watching it bounce sadly off of her cheek. She wipes it with the back of her hand before standing, taking John’s tray in the process to make up for her clear betrayal. He waves her off, then pushes his hands against the warm concrete so he could stand properly. There was only one period left in the day, but U.S history didn’t have as big of a place in his heart as the paranormal did. His dad would likely get on his case about skipping a period for such a “stupid” reason, but it was a risk he was willing to take. He had a sneaking suspicion that their neighborhood’s most recently vacant house wasn’t so vacant after all. 

It takes a lot of self-willing on his part, but eventually, John becomes the rebel he always wanted to be and skipped out entirely on last period. He’s never felt so light in his life as he did walking home like that, already itching to get his gear ready (though his gear really only consisted of a camera, a couple granola bars, and a flashlight). He makes sure his dad isn’t home before entering through the back door and jogging himself up the stairs. 

\--

It was all a matter of waiting, then. Recklessly throwing himself into situations that were probably illegal was his specialty, so John doesn’t think much of himself as he tells his father that he’s going for a brief walk. He’s off the porch before another word gets in, counting the cracks in the sidewalk while heading towards the abandoned little lot that he might potentially die in. It’s a completely rational fear, dying in the middle of a haunted house while ghosts t-bag your decomposing body. He’d even t-bag himself it meant fitting in a little better in the place he would likely have to haunt for the rest of his life. 

Ghost balls aside, John was a little nervous about going in there once he really saw how daunting the whole building was. Rickety floors and paint-chipped walls; all things necessary to make a house look scary as fuck. 

“I got this,” he mumbles to himself as a sort of personal hype, before shouldering the (fortunately) unlocked door open. He takes a glance around the neighborhood, then another, before shutting the door behind him. 

The flashlight is retrieved from the bottom of his bag, and that’s when the real search begins. It’s uneventful for the most part, moving along a greasy kitchen and shining the light on a hoard of bugs. He doesn’t find much, aside from a few abandoned blankets and remnants of old furniture. Ten minutes into his little expedition and a few pictures of jack shit, and John’s motivation is starting to deteriorate. 

The last place he checks is the upstairs portion, which he holds little to no hope for. Rose was right, his dad was going to be pissed at him for “breaking and entering”, and he wasn’t even going to meet a real life ghost for his trouble. The flashlight was moved around lazily throughout the hall, barely even skimming across the rooms, until John hears something rustle. 

His footsteps are cautious as he moves towards the back of the hallway, shouldering open a door at the end. It leads him to a room, empty aside from a twin bed with no covers shoved in the corner. There’s a kid sitting on it, probably his age, trailing idle circles in the dirt covering the windowsill. He doesn’t notice John’s there right away, which leaves him with a flashlight pointed to the ground and a dumbfounded expression on his face. It’d be weird to pull out a camera right then, but the thought passes him by as soon as the kid lifts his head and actually  _ looks _ at him. Shit. 

The first thing noticeable about the guy is that he has no eyes. Or, he  _ does, _ but they lack all pigmentation and irises too, leaving him with a weird, kind of pale-eyed stare. Most of his colors are muted and maybe a little translucent, and he seems  _ terrified _ that John is just staring at him like some sort of deer in the headlights. The flashlight flickers before turning off entirely, and John speaks before the dead(?) guy can. 

“Oh my god. Holy shit-- are you an actual ghost? Like, are you real, or are those contacts?” His words come out frantic, and as he takes a step forward, the figure moves an inch back. “Hey, I’m not gonna bite or anything. All I have is this flashlight- and, uh, a camera. Can I take a picture of you?” 

That comment oversteps any boundaries the guy had, as he’s dissipating in thin air without John even having to touch him. He jolts, rushing over to the bed to feel over the mattress for any trace of ectoplasm. There is none, but the area is a lot colder than he would have imagined. 

“Hey, come on! I wasn’t gonna hurt you.” It comes out more whiny than he would’ve liked, but he just had an experience with a  _ real ghost, _ and that was enough to satisfy him for the rest of the inevitably shitty school year. He sits with defeat against the mattress, letting his head clunk back against the wall. There’s silence and dust settling around the room, but before John can get up and call it quits while leaving with his disappointment, a clear voice beside him makes him jolt. 

“Barging into someone’s house with a clear expectation of how you want things to go is kind of bogus, man. Wasn’t even a knock, you just came in and made yourself as comfortable as you possibly could in this shithole.” It was breathy, maybe a little mumbly, but it definitely sounded like a teenage boy. When John turns to look, there’ the same translucent figure, sitting cross-legged in front of him. The hairs on the back of his neck stand, but he tries not to let the adrenaline get the best of him. His heart hammers in his throat even as he adjusts his position. Ghost-boy flinches, but doesn’t move. 

“So you’re dead, right?” A pause, and then a nod. John crosses his own legs, settling his backpack in his lap. “How did that happen? And like-- you know, why are you still here and all? And who are you?” 

“This isn’t twenty questions with Casper, man, just. Easy.” He seems overwhelmed, but takes it slowly in stride once John’s barrage of questioning was over. “..I’ve been here for awhile, I guess. Maybe it’s the bogus unfinished business schtick, or maybe the afterlife just really had it out for me. I don’t know, I can’t figure it out for the fucking life of me. Or, death in this case.” He shrugs, almost shrinking in on himself as he talks. Poor guy looks stressed out. 

As curious as he is, John’s still kind of conscious about keeping this ghost-guy happy. He holds out his hand as a peace offering, giving him some sort of half-apologetic smile. 

“I’m John. I live just down the street, and it’s kind of a wonder how I haven’t been here before.” His tone is sincere, but the other seems unconvinced. He doesn’t move his hand, and after a pause of silence, they meet in a handshake. He’s solid which is weird, but very cold and definitely more than clammy. 

“Dave,” he mutters, pulling his hand back once he’s decided that’s enough. “Nobody comes in here, so it wasn’t like I was anticipating the company. Not itchin’ for social interaction or anything.” 

“Well even if not, I’ll be showing up more often! If, you want me to.” Before he got a cohesive answer from Dave, he starts shuffling around in his bag before pulling out one of the travel-sized snacks he had. “Granola bar? I dunno if you can eat it, but you can try.”    
  
Dave takes it, twirling it around in his hand with a mumble of thanks. He unwraps it, just as John’s phone buzzes in his pocket. 

“Shit, I guess I gotta get going. I’ll see you around?” He asks, a hopeful look on his face with adrenaline still buzzing in his nerves. Dave, although a bit shaken up, lets his shoulders relax a bit. 

“..yeah. Sounds good.” 

**Author's Note:**

> go to https://electricyolk.tumblr.com/ to see the artwork they did of this fic! we're doing a colab together


End file.
